Valentine
by Trench Kamen
Summary: D sells a jealous and obsessive yaoi fangirl ‘love’ for Valentine’s Day, but the further her pet distorts reality to match her fantasies, the more the girl realizes that her fantasies might not be as glorious as she imagines. Complete.
1. Envy

This story ended up taking a month longer than I would have liked to complete. It was supposed to be a Valentine's Day release, obviously, but better late than never. It was also supposed to be a one-shot, but has been divided into three parts due to length.

_Petshop of Horrors_ and all respective characters are copyright Matsuri Akio. All other manga / bands / characters / etc cross-referenced in the story are copyright their respective owners.

WARNING: This features shoujo-ai / yuri (female X female) content. If you dislike that, do not read.

Pronunciation notes:  
Chianne: ("shan", rhymes with "Anne")  
Mae: ("may", like the month, one syllable)

* * *

"The precinct is at a loss with this one. Two students, boyfriend and girlfriend of the local high school, found dead on the same night within running distance of one another. Both were… well, you can see that they're both stabbed through the chest, but we don't know with what. Seems like a blunt instrument…" 

"So, that is what has been on your mind, Officer."

"You know, for a guy who claims to be so damn innocent all the time, you have a pretty calm reaction to gore like this. These pictures almost made my _superior_ vomit."

"I have seen a lot in my line of work."

_Damn right you have, D._ Leon Orcot snorted. He was sitting back in his chair and trying to calm his nerves, which had been strained all day. Count D set his teacup on a Chinese saucer and leaned on his manicured hands, tapping his long nails thoughtfully. He looked sad. "It's a shame. I didn't think Miss Fairbanks would die this tragically. I don't know this boy, though."

"…you've got to be shitting me." Orcot sat up. "You know Mae Fairbanks."

"Officer, please watch your language. My charges don't appreciate it. Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting her a few days ago, but—"

"She bought one of your goddamned pets?"

"No."

"D, come on." Orcot shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled. _Calm down, Leon.__ D's an asshole, but don't take your day out on him._ He took a deep drink of tea and sighed, rotating the cup in his fingertips. "…every damn case that we can't solve in this city lately is traced back to your shop, and lo and behold, you know this girl that looks like she had a baseball bat driven through her chest. This isn't shocking at all."

"If you came down here just to bait me, Officer, I will have to ask you to leave." D was glowering. "I don't appreciate being treated like a common murderer, and frankly, it seems like that is all you do when you come down here."

"No, I come down here just because I love seeing your fairy-ass for afternoon tea. No, D." Orcot sighed heavily and held the cup still, staring at the intricate Chinese design on its face. "…all right. This ought to be good. What did you sell her? A man-eating mole? It burrowed through her chest?"

"Officer, honestly, what is wrong with you this afternoon?" D reached across the laden tea-table for a biscuit. "You're all nerves and tension. Would it have something to do with the holiday, perhaps? Nothing can make a man so jumpy as love."

"…you're full of shit. Ever been at a crime scene?" Orcot took a slice of cake and shoved it whole into his mouth. D winced in distaste. " 's a hell of a lot more stuff than love to turn your stomach. Poets are so full of it."

"Well, it was worth a guess, Officer."

"What, you got a date for Valentine's or something? Am I finally going to be able to nail your ass when somebody catches you fucking a sheep or something?"

"If you hadn't brought me this amazing cake, I would kick you out of my shop. What a terrible thing to say!"

"Enough out of you." Orcot tapped the two pictures fanned beneath his saucer. One picture was of a blonde girl in a tailored jacket, face-down on a sidewalk and bordered by white spray-paint, with a mangled hole through her chest. White bone showed through bloodied muscle and innards. The brunette boy of the second picture was also face-down and in the same state, though he was on muddy, churned grass, and clad in a navy-blue windbreaker.

"They turned up this afternoon. Poor kids. Hell of a Valentine's Day for them. You say that you know this girl, Mae Fairbanks. The boy is Michael O'Dell. Do you know him?"

"I am afraid that I don't, Officer."

"Well, you have an uncanny knack for turning up clues. Sell any pets to anyone they know? Enemies, jealous exes?"

"Ah, of course." D sat up as Q-Chan hovered over, waiting for D to straighten his shoulder so that she could perch comfortably. The creature folded her wings and settled comfortably on her master, accepting the piece of cookie D offered. "I sold a snake to her friend the day after she and Miss Fairbanks came in to visit. It seems plausible that the incidents are related, but if the customer broke her contract, the store is released from all liability."

"A _snake_?" Orcot groaned. "I knew it…"

"You guessed a snake? Your senses are indeed keen, Officer!"

"Shut _up_! You know what I mean!"

"I'm afraid I don't."

"All right." Orcot snapped his fingers and stood up, gathering his pictures. "I want the girl's name. Who'd you sell a homicidal snake?"

"It's _not_ a homicidal snake. It was an incredibly rare breed—" Orcot rolled his eyes and started mimicking D, mouthing. D pursed his lips and huffed through his nose. "We uphold a policy of customer confidentiality, Officer."

"I'll bring you rum tiramisu tomorrow."

D stared at Orcot, thinking. Q-Chan flapped her wings and cooed worriedly. _What a moral fortress this guy is, yeah. How the hell did he survive this long in this city? He's a complete pushover._

"…Chianne Miller," said D. "Miss Chianne Miller. I have the papers with her address in my office."

"Thanks." Orcot stood and gathered his pictures. "You're a _real_ good guy, D."

"Don't patronize me." D leaned back in the couch and tapped his chin with his fore-nail. "And you never did tell me what's bothering you so very much, aside from your case, Officer."

"Saw my ex today with a guy from the district." Orcot sighed heavily and shrugged. "Oh well. I'll nail your ass this time, D. You're dealing with assisting murder. Get me those papers."

"That's not how you speak to the man who is helping you."

"_Man_? I don't see a _man_."

"Next time I'll poison your biscuits." D pursed his lips thoughtfully and sighed, stroking Q-Chan under the chin. "Q-chan, please get Miss Miller's papers for the _nice cop_. And be sure to chew the edges up."

* * *

Chianne Miller seemed like a relatively stock softcore goth kid to Orcot. She wore an elaborate, lace-and-spike frilled gothic Lolita dress, and she was crossing her arms and edging her shoulder-blades back into the couch. She wore far too much mascara and eyeliner, which was currently streaked and running from profuse crying and rubbing at her eyes, and refused to make eye contact, shifting uncomfortably and backing into the pillows. Perhaps she naturally had black hair, but Orcot guessed that she had used dye. She was alone in her apartment and had been watching the local newscast, which she had quickly changed to a sitcom while Orcot was visiting. The apartment smelled strongly of too-familiar incense that had made Orcot snort when he stepped inside. 

_D, what the hell did you sell this time?_

"You're a sophomore at Riverside, aren't you?"

Chianne nodded.

"You know Mae Fairbanks and Michael O'Dell?"

Chianne hesitated and nodded, glancing sidelong at the floor. A laughtrack played on the TV in the next room; somebody must have said something that was fabulously witty and entertaining. Chianne's blank gaze shifted to the doorframe behind Orcot.

_A-ha.__ Nailed. D, I've got your ass now._ Orcot watched Chianne, waiting for further body language. The girl looked pale and shocked, subdued, predictable behavior if she had just seen her friends murdered and was still suppressing the memories for a later breakdown. Though her eyes were raw and her makeup was a mess, Orcot guessed that it had been a couple of hours since she had been crying.

"Do you know what happened to them?"

Chianne once again hesitated. She shook her head slowly.

"Then, why so down?"

Chianne shrugged.

"…what was your relationship with Mae and Michael?"

Chianne stared at the floor. "…they were friends," she said quietly.

"Ex-boyfriend?" _Well, with these goth girls, just as likely ex-girlfriend._ "Enemies? How well did you know them?"

"…I didn't kill them."

"So, you do know what happened."

Chianne looked up, gaped, and covered her mouth. The TV laughed again.

"…I didn't…" she said. She started to break down. "Look, it's… I didn't… It's… Ayame…"

"Ayame?" Orcot watched the girl nod furiously and start sobbing, hugging her knees and showing off the underside of her thighs—almost her rear—in the process. Orcot forced himself to focus on the girl's face. "Is that a pet?"

"She's not… well… she's…"

"From Count D?"

"How do you KNOW that? Look… just…" Chianne shook her head furiously. "I… I don't know, just…"

"Can I see her?"

"No need," said a low, alto voice.

Orcot started and looked up. He had been so focused on Chianne that he had not seen the incredibly tall—_There is no way that's a chick; she has to be way over six feet tall!—_woman, who was standing behind the couch with her arms crossed, approach. She was lithe and graceful; given what D had told him, Orcot didn't think it would be too far of a call to say she was 'snakelike'. She was straight-shouldered and appeared rather flat-chested and androgynous beneath an immaculate, tailored, black-and-white business suit, and she had loosely-cropped, jet-black hair and violently green, slitted eyes.

She was staring at Orcot, unblinking and expressionless. A trace of scorn crossed her mouth.

"Ayame!" Chianne stood on the couch and grasped the woman's shoulders desperately. Her body was wracking with sobs; she swayed and almost lost her balance on the yielding pillows. Ayame looked at Chianne without blinking.

Orcot arched his eyebrows and resisted the urge to reach for his gun. _Yeah, that's a snake, all right._

"What businesssss do you have with Csssshianne?"

"I didn't know all my business had to pass through the welcoming committee, lady."

"Ayame, leave him alone…" said Chianne. "He's just a cop… he's just going to talk to me, and he'll be gone—"

"Cssshianne is _mine_." Ayame collected Chianne in the crook of her arm possessively and pulled her over the back of the couch, setting her down smoothly next to her and holding the girl back-to-chest with both arms. Though she looked scared, Chianne went quiet and looked away from Orcot submissively, twisting her toe on its axis and turning a bit red. Orcot blinked. _Oh… so, that's how it is. It's a dyke pet. Figures, D. Why do all of these little goth chicks have to be swishy, anyway?_

"At the moment, Chianne is answering some questions, lady."

"Nobody touchessss Cssshianne without my permisssssssion."

"Ayame, _stop it_!" said Chianne. "I've had enough! This isn't a game anymore!"

"Cop," said Ayame. "You sssaw what happened to the bitchhh and her boyfriend. If you don't want to sssshare their fate, you will walk out of thisss houssse and keep quiet about everything you have learned here. If one more of your officerssss comesss here, he will die immediately."

"…oh, _that's_ it. I've had enough of this shit." Orcot pulled his gun out of its holster and aimed at Ayame's head, steeling himself in case she tried anything stupid. _Hopefully she won't go ghost on me or something._ "You're under arrest, lady. Get back against the wall. So's your master, the Count. We're all going for a ride."

"Officer Orcot! Please, put that down!"

"Sorry, Chianne." Orcot pulled his handcuffs off their strap on his belt. "Your pet is a murderer. You're going to have to come downtown as well. You dealt with a really shady guy in Chinatown."

"It's my fault! I broke the contract! You don't understand!"

"So did they all. Come on." He motioned toward the door with his gun. "Let's go."

Ayame was gone. Orcot stiffened instinctively, widening his stance and looking around the room, tracing with his gun. The TV droned from the next room. _God damn it! Not this supernatural shit again! Where are you, you bitch?_

"Ayame, get out here! I don't have time for this!"

"Ayame!" Chianne crumpled against the wall and curled, sobbing. "Stop! Stop it! No more! I don't want this anymore! Stop it! Stop it—"

Something slammed Orcot in the back, knocking the wind out of him. Orcot yelled and fell to his knees, forcing himself to keep his grasp on his gun. Ayame dug the heel of her dress shoe into the back of Orcot's head and drove him nose-first into the ground, grinding, as she dug her opposite knee into the small of his back and shifted her hand in place of her heel on the back of his head. She stomped on his hand until he released his pistol, then kicked it across the room. Orcot's nose shattered against the wooden floor; he screamed breathlessly and scrabbled fruitlessly, gasping for breath. For being so slender, this chick was cripplingly strong.

"AYAME!" screamed Chianne. "NO MORE! STOP! STOP!"

"I told you." Through his trapped panic, Orcot could feel Ayame's deep voice through her limbs. He heard Chianne run toward them. "You're mine. Nobody messsssess with you but me. Isssn't thisss what you wanted?"

"Not like this! Stop, Ayame! You're hurting him! Please!" Orcot felt Chianne fall to her knees next to Ayame. Ayame swayed; Orcot guessed Chianne was hanging on her arm. "Please! Please! I beg you, please! If you love me, please! Please! STOP THIS! I don't want you to be like this! I'm sorry I ever doubted you! Please! Just let him go!"

"You foolish girl." Orcot felt Ayame's weight lift slightly; he tried to jackknife up in a re-found burst of energy, but only hurt his lower back against her knee and hissed. He heard Ayame kiss Chianne. "I'm sssshowing you how far I'd go for you. Isn't thisss what you wanted? Jussst like one of your sssstories?"

"But this is… it's too far…"

"No, it'sss jussst like your sssstory. The one with Yuki and Ssshuichi, the one you read me. 'One Ssstep Closssser'. The one with the lyricsss. I loved it sssso much, Cssshianne. It wasss beautiful. You thought it wasss ssso romantic. You told me you wanted to feel like Ssshuichi in that ssstory when Yuki murdered for him. You wanted to be posssssesssssed like Sssshuichi. Dominated…"

"The hell are you talking about?" muttered Orcot.

"But… it's… come on, Ayame. This is _real_… it's…"

"For something that isn't real," said Count D, "you definitely built your worldview around that point of reference."

Orcot cursed into the ground, unable to see anything but the wooden floor and his blood seeping into his field of vision. "D, call your pet off!"

* * *

Chianne had walked into D's petshop the day after she had been to Chinatown with Mae, hurting because Mae was currently spending the day with Michael. Yesterday, they had stopped in D's petshop on a lark and had fawned over a beautiful black falcon that would have worked perfectly as Mae's familiar for her Seishirou costume last year, then left after small-talk with the owner. Both of them had loved D; he was a transvestite and therefore, in their books, awesome, and he was quite a character of one at that. 

Chianne mulled as she descended the steps from the petshop's front entrance, moving from glaring sunlight to cool darkness. She loved the incense D burned; she meant to ask him what kind it was. She felt like blowing money on comfort things like incense and chocolate today. She also just wanted to talk to D. She got the feeling that he would _understand_. He was gay, after all, wasn't he? His mind _must_ be open, and he just _had_ to see things her way. Nobody else did.

Everybody had said that Chianne and Mae had made beautiful partners at last night's cosplay contest at the comic store. Chianne jumped at any opportunity to be Mae's cosplay counterpart. Mae was a perfect for cosplaying beautiful, seme-type males; she was tall and athletic, though she had to bind her chest flat, and Chianne made a good compliment as whatever respective uke was needed. As they were currently cosplaying Yuki and Shuichi from _Gravitation_, Chianne was on a Yuki-and-Shuichi writing binge. Last year, when they had done _X_, she was obsessed with anything related to Subaru and Seishirou, and avoided anything Seishirou-and-Fuuma related. Chianne _really_ hated Fuuma. Michael had cosplayed Fuuma; the association was just too sickening to read.

Last night, as usual, people had assumed that she and Mae were actually a couple, and a cute one, at that. Many fangirls had wanted fanservice-pose pictures, something Chianne would be all-too-willing to do properly, but Mae always faked the shots, either hovering with her lips just above Chianne's, or holding Chianne stiffly when various hugging-shots were requested. Mae had replied to inquiries that she was dating the easygoing Vash cosplayer, Michael, who was probably off playing _Dance Dance Revolution_ or telling bad jokes, or something. Chianne had then left Mae's side in a sulk and had curled up on the sidewalk outside the comic store's door, trying to lure Mae outside to fawn over her and apologize. Mae had spent a good half hour staying inside with everybody having a good time, and, of all people, it had been _Michael_ who had broken away from his admirers long enough to check on Chianne. She seethed; he had some _nerve_, daring to check on her. He was always so damn nice and concerned.

_Everybody_ loved Mae and Michael. They had _fangirls_. It was disgusting. Mae was so smooth and refined, a beautiful tomboy and crossplayer with a black belt in Judo with an encyclopedic knowledge of J-Rock, and Michael was probably the sweetest male any of the self-gender-isolating girls had encountered in the flesh: outgoing and emotional, but incredibly intelligent. He was perfect in appearance and character to cosplay Vash the Stampede from _Trigun_—all he had to do was bleach his dark brown hair and spike it—and had finally gotten a rough draft of his coat finished in time for the cosplay last night.

Chianne had also developed a strong dislike for Vash. She used to love _Trigun_, but now the show turned her stomach, and Vash was an obnoxious, self-righteous Gary Stu. It was a shame; she had to take down her _Trigun_ posters and discontinue her Vash X Wolfwood fic, all because of that bastard Michael. He had an incredible knack for taking everything that ever meant anything to her.

"Ah, you're back already." Count D bowed slightly as Chianne stepped off the last stair into the shop's lobby. "Where is Miss Fairbanks today?"

"…she's with _Michael_."

"Ah, I see. Might I ask why you refer to him in such a tone?"

"He's… he's deceptive. An attention-whore, a twat, and an airhead, and everybody loves him _so damn much_, but I'm the only one who sees him for what he really is. He's not that great."

"Oh, really?" D shifted the bead curtains with the back of his hand and stood back to allow Chianne into the shop. "You must be very perceptive to be the only person to see these things."

"I am, but nobody sees it that way. They don't understand me. Nobody understands me. He's just so damn flashy that Mae only sees _him_, but she doesn't even know that I exist. _I'm_ the one who's been there with her since fourth grade, always by her side, and Michael only moved to New York two years ago, and she's always making up excuses for why she can't hang out with me. I know it's because she wants to hang out with him all the time. I hate him! I was there first! I've always been there for her, listening to her and willing to give everything to her, but the past two years since she met this _asshole_… she's even got other friends who don't care about her nearly as much as _I_ do that she'd rather hang out with even over _me_. When she's done with Michael, I'm still second to everybody! She says she's so _sorry_, like she really cares, but I know she's not!"

D stared at Chianne, still holding aside the bead-ropes and waiting for her to walk through. Chianne was crossing her arms tightly and staring at the ground, scuffling her toe and fighting back tears, swaying. She swallowed, hard. She _knew_ that she was going to start crying down here, but she had not fully acknowledged it until now.

"…it's not _fair_!" continued Chianne. "I would give up everything to be with Mae, and Michael doesn't even _need_ her! Mae doesn't understand! She's my prince; we're destined to be together, and if we're not, I won't be able to live! I just won't be able to live! We're _destined_! I can't stand her being with that… that…"

"…boy?"

"Yes! She… she… she seems like such a _girl_ with him… it's not right… that's not my Mae… She's not supposed to be a _girl_!"

"But from what you have told me, Miss Miller, Mae is a woman."

"She IS, but… it's not right! This isn't right!"

"…do you honestly think it is degrading to a woman to be with a man?"

"Mae's not like _most girls_." Chianne spat the words scornfully. "Mae's… _different_. Mae's too cool."

"…I see."

"You don't understand. You just don't understand. You're so closed-minded. I thought you were _different_."

"I see."

Chianne hugged her elbows and stared at the floor, hiccupping. She knew that D was still watching her.

"…hey, um… what do you mean by selling love and dreams? Do you really do that?"

"Yes. And by that, I mean exactly what I say."

"…can you get me anything that I want?"

"As long as you want love and dreams, I can."

Chianne sighed. She knew that D knew exactly what she wanted; now, she would just see if he would give it to her, or if she would have to ask for it. She heard the beaded curtain shift back further.

"Come back here. Let's see what we have for you."

Chianne looked around the dark, ornate lobby one last time, searching for some kind of reassurance, then looked at D. D was smiling and slightly stooped in a welcoming manner, motioning for her to enter. Incense was wreathing through the beads in fragrant plumes that also carried hints of ocean and rainfall. Chianne half-expected to find a rainforest beyond the door.

_It's fine. He's a gay guy; he can't be bad, after all. God, he's pretty. This is going to be so cool._


	2. Dream

"That's not a pet."

Chianne had been lead through several dark, cool hallways of various incense-smells and descriptions to a hewn-block room decorated in the ancient Egyptian style. A long-limbed, dark-haired young man in a suit was lounging on a white-linen bed with his back to the door, curled with his chin resting on his hands. His flank was rising and falling in sleep.

"That's…" Chianne looked up at D. "Are you trying to sell me a prostitute?"

"No. This is an incredibly rare breed of snake."

"That's not a snake! That's a human!"

The man stirred and lifted his head, stretching. He rolled over onto his back, sprawling artfully on the couch with his hand draped over his chest, and stared at Chianne unblinkingly. Chianne squealed in spite of herself. He was gorgeous in every way she could imagine: he was slender and effeminate with a flawless face, deep green eyes, and shatter-cut, jet-black hair.

"Ohhh. He looks like a J-Rocker!"

"She. This snake is a female."

"No way! He—she's way too tall! And that's not a snake!"

The snake-woman sat up, stretched her linked hands behind her back, yawned, cracked her knuckles, and stood smoothly, walking over to the door through clouds of incense. Chianne bit her bent finger and squealed again; the snake-woman had a certain boneless grace that made Chianne's stomach drop, and now that she was standing over the girl, Chianne could see by her figure, flat though she was, that she was indeed a female, and every bit as tall as she looked on the couch.

"She's not from Egypt, if that's what you're thinking," said D. "She's not really from… well, _anywhere_. She had just taken a liking to this room, so I let her stay in there. She doesn't have a proper name yet, so you are welcome to name her if you want her."

"…I don't know." The snake-woman walked behind Chianne and placed her hands on Chianne's shoulders, slightly kneading them. Chianne gasped; the woman was rubbing the back of Chianne's neck with her thumb. A shiver shot down Chianne's back.

"Um… hi…"

"Hello," said the woman. Chianne was _sure_ her stomach dropped out this time; the woman had an incredibly low voice, lower than Chianne had ever heard on a female. She swallowed. Her coherent train of thought had long since derailed and crashed under the kneading, and the woman's voice was not helping it get back on track, nor were the woman's incredibly good looks or height.

"Ah, she seems to have taken a liking to you."

"Sssshe'sss a cute one," said the woman. Chianne almost swooned. The woman ran her other thumbnail up Chianne's neck. "What'ssss your name?"

"C-C-C-Chianne Miller."

The snake-woman laughed. "You're not ssssuppossssed to hissssss like me."

Chianne laughed. _Oh my god. Oh. My god. She's amazing._ Her muscles were already starting to relax, though the butterflies in her stomach were fully waking and getting restless. _She's perfect. She can't be real. She's even more gorgeous than Mae. _

"I can give her to you for… oh… five dollars."

"…_what?_"

"Five dollars, and perhaps you could bring me a cheesecake when you come to get more incense for her."

"That's… that's it…? Incense?"

"Yes. If you purchase her, there would be three clauses of the contract to which you would have to adhere. If you break any of these clauses, the store cannot be held responsible for any tragedies that occur."

"…what are they?"

"First, you must not allow her, under any circumstances, to get wet. Second, you must keep the incense burning whenever she is around. I have cone and stick varieties for that, and I can sell you a perfume she can wear in place of that. Third, you must follow her and trust her without falter, no matter what."

_I'd follow her anywhere._ Chianne looked up at the woman's face and smiled. _Oh my god. I don't care what the hell she is. Snake, whatever. She can't be _human_, so it's not illegal to buy her, is it? She's… she's perfect! She's everything I've ever wanted._

"What do you want to name me?"

"…I don't know. You're a snake, so… I would have considered Malfoy or Snape, but…" Chianne thought for a moment. "…how about Ayame?"

"Ayame?"

"Yeah, like from _Fruits Basket_. I think it means 'peach blossom' or something. Or maple. I'm not sure. But anyway, is that all right with you?"

"It issss all right becausssse you chosssse it."

Chianne grinned and turned back to D. "I'll take her!"

"Right." He turned and motioned back down the hallway, smiling to himself. "If you would come this way, we will get your papers signed and your care items…"

* * *

"So, in this one, Heero tries to commit suicide in his bathtub, but Duo stops him. I'm sure you can tell where that's going." Chianne giggled and scrolled through the story. Ayame was sitting aside her on a chair Chianne had dragged into the living room from the kitchen table. They had set a stick of incense to burn in a wooden holder next to the keyboard, and Ayame was wearing her perfume, so the scent in the area was overpowering. "I used lyrics from my favorite Linkin Park song, 'In the End'. It's called a songfic." 

"You really like thissss band."

"Yeah. Well, this song reminds me of Mae. It's kind of hard to explain… you know." Chianne smiled at Ayame shyly. "_Gundam Wing_'s okay, but it's so cliché. I like doing some _FAKE_ here and there—I did this one to 'If You're Gone' by Matchbox 20 where Ryo tries to walk out on Dee; he's the uke—but last year I did a lot of _X _stuff, Subaru and Seishirou, of course, and no Fuuma, since he's an asshole, and this year I've been on a _Gravitation _spree. I want to eventually do some _Yami__ no Matsuei_. Tatsumi's so hawwwt."

"That'ssss sssso cool."

"I did this one fic called 'Angel' where Subaru gets pregnant… _you_ know who the father is… but it got flamed. People kept calling the baby a Mary Sue. She's not. She's a really good character. She's just misunderstood."

"I'm not ssssure I know what you mean by that."

Chianne was looking for the words to explain just how tragic the baby's life had been and how awesome and original a gothic chick she was when the front door opened. Chianne froze in horror and stared at Ayame.

"Shit… it's Mom."

"Chianne!" a woman yelled from the foyer.

"_What?_" Chianne snapped.

"Get in here!"

Chianne sighed heavily and stood, walking into the kitchen. Her mother was taking off her coat and hanging it in the hall closet, still wearing her Dillard's shirt and nametag. She looked exhausted and angry.

"Your principal called to say that you had not returned a signed report card a month after it was handed to you at school."

"I lost it."

"Is that so?" Chianne's mother set her keys down and put her hands on her hips. "From what I heard, you'd been called to the office to speak about it with Mr. Spardo last Tuesday. He said you were thoroughly rude, _and_ that your teachers wrote on your card that you haven't been turning in any homework in any of your classes or doing anything in class but drawing your cartoons."

"They're NOT cartoons! And that's bullshit; I turned in my English last week."

"_Watch_ your language, Chianne Miller!"

"Yeah, well, it is. And you can't boss me around."

"_Chianne_—"

"Mom, you don't understand! The classes are so gay and such a waste of my time, and I can't concentrate on the schoolwork. It's just too boring! It's so far beneath me! They're stifling my creativity! And I don't have any time to do it! I'm under far too much stress."

"Time for _what_?" Chianne's mother sighed and leaned back on her hand, tapping her fingers on the linoleum counter. "Chianne, all you do every day after school is come home and play on the internet for hours, and you don't have a job or anything to take up your time."

"I can't handle a job! I don't have _time_!"

"What, might I ask, is taking up so much of your time that could be _so_ important that you don't have time to do a few math problems?"

"It's _not_ a _few_! It's like _fifty_! The teacher's an asshole—"

"Chianne!"

"—and I've talked to him, but every day he's like: 'If you don't turn in this homework, I'm going to fail you', and he's a complete ass! He took away my sketchbook last week!"

"Why do you think that is, Chianne?"

"Because he's an ASS. And I'm doing important things that you couldn't understand, Mom."

"You mean watching cartoons and writing stories?"

"They're NOT CARTOONS, and you _don't_ understand." Chianne stomped into the computer room over her mother's warning calls of her name, grabbed Ayame, who had been listening, by the arm, and dragged the snake to her room, slamming the door and locking it. Her mother walked down the hall and jiggled the handle shortly afterward, pounding on the door.

"Chianne, _open this door_! Who's in there?"

"Can you shut that bitch up?" asked Chianne.

Ayame nodded and threw her hand out toward the door as if flicking water off her fingers. Chianne's mother's voice was stifled, and the door stopped rattling. Chianne sighed and grinned.

"You're a goddess, Ayame." Chianne flopped back on her black-and-flames-sheeted bed, smiling at Ayame, who sat on the end of her bed. "God, I'm sorry you had to hear that. My mother's such a raging bitch. I hate her so much. I can't wait until I move out. Last week she fucking grounded me because I was late for her fucking curfew. She's so judgmental."

"What about your father?"

"Divorce. He's so cool; he lets me do pretty much whatever I want when I go visit. He lives in Phoenix. Hey, do you listen to music?"

"I've heard ssssome here and there."

"I like a lot of stuff. Lately I've been listening to a lot of Depeche Mode. They're eighties, and they're fucking amazing. I like 'It's No Good' the best. It's, you know, inspirational. It's so amazing. It gives me goose-bumps. Manson's good too. He's so hot."

"I'm not familiar with thossse."

Chianne gestured to the posters plastered across her narrow walls. "They're all up on the walls. See, those're my yaoi boys as well. Aren't they cute? Yuki's so _kawaii_; he looks just like my best friend."

"…bessssst friend?"

"Mae, the one I told you about."

"The one that hurt you."

"…yeah, her. Her and Michael."

"I'll never hurt you like sssshe did."

Chianne blinked nervously and tried to laugh, though she felt the blood rising to her cheeks. Ayame had been saying odd things like that all afternoon and looking downright miserable whenever she spoke fondly of anybody but Ayame. Mae's name, especially, quieted Ayame and made her stare unblinkingly at Chianne.

"Oh, Ayame, I know you never would. You're amazing. You're the coolest person I've ever met. You're ten times cooler than Mae could ever be."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Mae can be a bitch, and her rack's too big, but you're _perfect_. You're everything I've ever wanted and dreamed of. But it's, like, you're a chick, even if I did imagine a guy, but for some reason… I don't know, it feels more right. It's like you'd understand me more or something."

"I am accssseptable to you, then?"

"God, yes!" Chianne sat up and pounced across the bed onto Ayame's shoulders. "Glomp! Meow!"

"Glomp? Meow?"

"Yup!" Chianne nuzzled Ayame's cheek. Unlike most people, Ayame did not flinch or stiffen, but leaned into the nuzzle happily. Chianne felt the blood rush to her face. "Reow! God, you're warm! Aren't snakes supposed to be cold-blooded, or something?"

"I don't know what you are talking about." Ayame nuzzled Chianne back. "Would you prefer that I am cold?"

"…no…" Chianne sighed and shuddered. Ayame was nuzzling the crook of Chianne's neck and flicking her tongue along the skin at intervals. This beautiful, perfect seme-woman was actually responding _positively_ to her advances. _Very_ positively. "Um… Ayame… you're sure about all of this?"

"Why would I not be? You like me, don't you?" Ayame twisted to face Chianne and started kissing along her jawline.

"Of course… but… ohhhh." Chianne gasped and grabbed the arch of her footboard. _Oh my god. This really does feel as good as all of those fics say it does!_ She had written about this sort of treatment multiple times—the way Ayame was nipping at her neckline and kissing around her lips, all of it, right down to the usual descriptions of how it was supposed to feel—but it was still a shock in much the same way that actually driving a car was a shock after years of racing games in the arcade. The kind that violently skid the cars ninety degrees when the wheel is gently turned about ten degrees.

"You…" She gasped and gripped the footboard harder, wondering whether or not she should embrace Ayame around the shoulders. The snake was working her way back down Chianne's neck. "…uh… I… I _like_ you, I _like_ you a lot… I… uh… Okay."

Chianne wrapped her arms around Ayame's straight shoulders and pulled her down into a hard, closed-lipped kiss. "I've… oh my god, I've never done this before, I mean, I've read stuff and written stuff, but—"

"Ssssssssh." Ayame laughed quietly and flipped Chianne onto her back, pinning her shoulders. Chianne jabbered, searching for some sort of response. "You're giving your firsssst time to me?"

"I… uh… wait…" Ayame was giving Chianne the most tender, loving look she had ever received in her life. She swallowed; she had fantasized about this happening, eventually, but… "…how far are we going, anyway?"

"Assss far assss you like." Ayame ran the backs of her fingers down Chianne's cheek, stroking, then rolling her hand around to cup her chin. She repeated the motion in a flowing loop. "Why? Don't you trussst me?"

"Of course! I'd follow you to the ends of the earth! You're everything I've ever wanted, Ayame. I love you." She stroked Ayame's silky hair. Ayame smiled at her. "Yes, I want you to be my first. Just… um… I've never really been as much into yuri, except some Harkua X Michiru stuff here and there, and some Utena X Anthy and a bit of Sakura X Tomoyo… so I'm not so sure about a lot of things… um, the room is still soundproof and locked, right?"

"Very muchhh so. We're going to need it."

"Uh."

"I might take on a human form, but I sssstill very muchhh have a ssssnake'ssss flexability and—" She flicked the tip of her tongue across the shell of Chianne's ear. "—a sssnake'sss tongue."

"Um… _oh_." Chianne swallowed. Dark, molten metal surged through the core of her abdomen. Ayame pushed herself up on her arms and smirked. Her loving smile had waxed toward the naughty side of things. "…OH…"

* * *

Chianne was sure that she could not have written a better experience than last night, not by any stretch of the imagination. There was a perfection and utter lack of awkwardness for which she strived and read about. She had heard that, in reality, the mechanics of sex were far more frank and prone to failing (being awkward and messy, not working properly, being just damn painful without 'melting into pleasure', as she so often read it did, and not being simultaneous, that sort of thing), especially with novices, but Ayame had proven all of those theories incorrect in the most delightful ways. However refined Ayame looked fully-dressed in the daylight, in bed, she was the earthly manifestation of the demon of lust after a few drinks and double-shot espressos. Or stoned; it was hard to tell which sometimes. 

After waking up sore and feeling deliciously languid, resting on Ayame's smooth shoulder with Ayame's well-toned arm possessively across her chest, Chianne had woken her new lover with several well-placed suction-kisses and had gained a brief, sleepy make-out session before she had remembered that she had left her mother screaming outside her door late the previous evening. Since she would much rather have her mother yell at her outside than find her in bed, naked, with another woman, who was also very much naked, Chianne had hurriedly dressed and entered the kitchen expecting her mother to be waiting with a steak knife and a sawed-off shotgun. However, her mother was drinking coffee in her work uniform and staring at the toaster while it warmed a Pop-Tart, either with zero memory of the previous night or a newfound store of incredible good-humor, patience, and utter lack of care for her daughter's conduct. Chianne introduced Ayame to her mother as her new friend from school, to which her mother had only lightly waved and commented on how tall and pretty Ayame was before leaving for work.

Chianne had desperately wanted to shower with Ayame, but had showered alone, remembering D's strict instructions in her contract. It was a clause she wanted lifted; she would visit the petshop soon. She wondered how Ayame was going to clean herself after last night, though Chianne noticed (somewhat disappointed because she had heard it was supposed to add a certain glide to the whole experience) Ayame did not sweat. She was only half-surprised when, after stepping out of the shower, Ayame was suddenly as clean as though she had just blow-dried her hair, and her suit was as clean and dry as though it had just been pulled from the dryer and ironed. After being thrown on the floor last night, the suit _should_ have been rumpled. Chianne changed into a Mandarin shirt, full-bodied pleated skirt, and knee-high combat boots, before dragging Ayame out of the apartment by her wrist.

Ayame should only have been familiar with Chinatown and, as of last night, the route from Chinatown to Chianne's apartment, but the snake seemed to have an inexhaustible knowledge of romantic and fun places to visit, and an inexhaustible supply of money. They played at a huge arcade for a couple of hours, where Ayame displayed that she was incredibly adept at _Dance Dance Revolution_ in maniac double-pad, level-ten, jumping-off-the-machine ways that stunned the hardcore regulars, of which Chianne was one. Ayame took Chianne shopping for far more clothes than Chianne could ever hope to afford in a year, given that she was living with a single mother who barely had money to pay the rent, showing her gothic emporiums and independent stores even she had never seen before. They ate lunch in a sidewalk café, where Chianne delighted in watching peoples' irritated reactions (mostly a lot of eye-rolling and whispered comments to their companions, which seemed anticlimactic) when she made it painfully obvious with hand-holding, frequent kisses, and loud pet-names that she was avant-garde enough to date another woman.

Ayame was great fun; she was appropriately grudging, but gave in to any request after Chianne had whined and meowed, or hung on her arm for a few moments. By the end of the night, when they were walking down a section of the boardwalk lined by midway games (half of which Ayame had beaten with ease and won Chianne several plush animals, including a huge dragon she was carrying under its arms), Ayame had confessed that she had never met anybody as amazing as Chianne, and that she wanted to spend the rest of her life protecting her, supporting her, and standing by her side.

Ayame had proposed on bended knee shortly after that, with a gorgeous Celtic ring and everybody on the boardwalk applauding when Chianne had responded favorably, crying, and Ayame had jumped up and swung her around, kissing her. It was very romantic. They had another very romantic night after that. It was so romantic that Chianne's mother had decided to retire early and not care that Chianne had a guest spending the night on a school night, and it was definitely romantic enough to merit another sound-barrier.

The next day, Monday, February 14, Chianne took another painfully lonely shower, twisting the ring on her finger and thinking deeply. The euphoria from the previous twenty-four hours was being eaten by the nagging realization that things were moving rather quickly and that, much as she did not want to remember, something seemed a little _off_ with Ayame. She couldn't put her finger on it, but Chianne was sure that there were times when she had seen Ayame's smile edge with cold malice as she looked the opposite direction. But, no, it must have been a hallucination; Ayame was always as chipper as ever when Chianne made a questioning noise.

_You're just nervous because this is moving so quickly, and it seems too good to be true. I need to stop by the petshop to talk to Count D about all of this. I mean, Ayame's human inside and out; this much I know. Human enough, anyway._ Chianne grinned to herself, blushing. _Oh, yes she is. Mom's going to have a fit when I tell her that I'm going to get married to a chick. I think it's illegal in California or something, but it doesn't matter. And… I don't really want to get married right now anyway. Not officially. _

Chianne finished quickly, dressed in one of her new outfits, and lead Ayame out of the apartment complex to the bus stop. She had originally planned to ditch school today since she couldn't stomach facing Mae and Michael, or anybody else who was happy or in some other way not miserable, but she had something new to show off. It didn't matter what all of those closed-minded bastards at school thought: she was with another woman, and nobody was going to say it was wrong. She was also going to rub it in Mae's face. She didn't need Mae anymore.

Really, she didn't.

Really. She didn't want her, not at all.

Really, she hoped she got jealous as hell.

Chianne found Michael and Mae at their usual lunch hideout in one of the band practice rooms in an obscure hallway. Mae was sitting on a stool and tuning her acoustic guitar (the one painted with all of the cool designs, lines of circles of descending radii, Polynesian-looking tattoos, and the like), and Michael was stretched out against the wall, reading _Angels and Demons_ with one hand and eating a sandwich with the other. Chianne motioned for Ayame to duck below the hallway window and leaned toward the cracked-open door, listening. They hadn't seen her at school all day, and for all she knew, they were talking about her.

It turned out that they actually _were_, for once.

* * *

"She probably just felt like taking another mental health day," said Michael. 

"She's being shallow." Mae plucked one of the guitar strings a few times. "She's… I don't know, trying to put all of this off on me again."

"Oh, come on. Maybe she just felt like taking a day off. You can't blame her for hurting. Really, she lost out on a great prize."

Mae looked up. Michael was smirking over the top of his book.

"You're terrible. No, Mike, she's just being a bitch again. And she never had a chance in the first place. I don't know." She looked back down at Lord Gackt Magellan the Guitar and plucked at the A-string. "…I just feel so bad."

"I know you do. Don't."

"She's just… I _can't_ tell her that I want to distance from her, you know? I think she'd shrivel up and die if I did. She's so draining. It's just… there's something missing there. It's like we're on two different levels. I just need _space_."

"I know, Prince. We've talked about it time and again. Don't worry about it."

Mae plucked a string abruptly. "…I'm not in the mood, Mike. Don't call me that."

"I wasn't implying anything." Michael set his book face-down on its pages and stood, holding up his hands in a disarming gesture. "I was just using my pet name for the lady-Prince that rescued me, saved my soul and—"

"You're full of it."

"At least I'm not calling you 'Desperada' anymore."

"Yeah, why don't you come to your senses?"

"I have enough to see what's laid out on my table."

"You're done."

"Very." Michael reached around Mae's back and plucked a random string. "At least I'm not calling you Yuki-sama or Seishirou-san today."

"Michael, you're an _asshole_." Mae pushed her forefinger and thumb out across her eyes and rested her forehead against the bridge of her hand, elbow in the crook of her guitar. Michael stood awkwardly behind her. "That's not funny."

"…sorry."

"No, it's okay, just… I don't know."

"Let's not think about this today. Come on, this is supposed to be a celebration." Michael wrapped his arms around Mae's shoulders and kissed the back of her neck. "I'm sorry, all right? No more worrying? Please?"

"…I really just want her to leave me alone. I just can't… tell her off. I just want her to be happy and bugger off."

"I know. I know. We've talked _again_ and _again_ about this, and my answer never changes." Michael kissed her again and rested against her back. "Come on, no more worry. You have no reason to feel bad. Lunch is almost over. Do you want to review the trig identities? I can put that program in your TI-83—"

The door slammed open against the wall. Michael and Mae looked up. A tall woman, or, rather, another woman-in-a-suit-who-wasn't-Mae, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and glaring coldly. Michael instinctively tightened his grip on Mae. The woman's eyes were glowing green, and a green aura was starting to glow around her form.

"…may we help you?" said Michael, quite a bit less coolly than he would have liked to sound.

The woman did not respond. Chianne jumped out behind the wall and grabbed the woman's arm, begging her not to do anything. Michael gaped.

"_Chianne_? What are you doing here?"

"Chianne…" said Mae. "How long were you out there?"

"Long enough!" Chianne gripped the woman's arm, thinking. Her timid, begging demeanor was lagging. "You shallow _bitch_! You're a fair-weather friend!"

"Is angst you create for yourself the bad weather she has to endure to be honorable?" said Michael. "Chianne, shut up. She's been a hell of a lot more loyal to you than anybody should be. Don't you dare call her that."

"Mike, let me handle this." Mae straightened and stood, setting Magellan on the ground and squaring her shoulders. "Chianne, let's go outside, if your… um… friend would not mind—"

"Yeah, Chianne, who _is_ that, anyway?"

"My _fiancée_!" Chianne pulled the black-haired woman down by the back of her neck and kissed her pointedly, staring at Mae the entire time. Michael gaped again. Mae's shoulders slackened in shock. "A _true_ prince, not a _liar_ and a player!"

_Oh, God. Where the hell did she pick _this_ one up?_ Michael looked the woman over, regaining his usual composure. _I hope she knows damn well what she's getting into. That, or she's another ego-feeding butch chick who needs a source of ego-inflation. Chianne doesn't deserve that. What the _hell_ is going on?_

"Chianne, come on…" said Mae.

"You hurt Csssshianne," said the woman. Michael narrowed his eyes. _The hell is with the hiss? Don't you _dare_ get on Mae's case. You don't know anything about this._ "You don't dessssserve to lick her shoessss."

"Um. Yes," said Michael. "It's very nice that you care, but who are—"

"Sssssilencssse!" The woman threw her hand out toward Michael, and Michael felt his larynx shut off. He felt his throat and stared. _What the HELL? Sorcery?_

"Listen, lady." Mae straightened once again and crossed her arms. "I don't know what Chianne told you, but this is none of your business, and I never—"

"You hurt Csssshianne. None of your reasssssonssss justify that."

"Yes, they do. Who the hell _are_ you, anyway? And what the _hell_ business is this of _yours_?"

The woman darted forward and upper-cut toward Mae's jaw. Mae caught the woman's fist and her other hand before she could punch Mae in the stomach. Michael lunged toward them and caught a glimpse of Mae's pained, shocked face at the woman's strength, the latter of whom threw Mae into the wall before she could knee the woman in the stomach and before Michael could break their hands. The woman smirked at Michael and kicked him into the wall beside Mae, blowing the wind from his lungs.

"Sssstay out of thissss, boy."

_She's a better fighter than_ Mae! _Shit! Shit!_ The woman walked over, grabbed Mae by her collar, and dragged her to her eye level_—one handed; even Mae can't do that! Oh my god. This chick can't be human—_tilting her head and looking Mae over scornfully. Michael struggled for breath, unable to move. The woman threw Mae into the bundle of music stands in the corner, then smashed Magellan on the back of the stool, breaking its frame clean in half.

Chianne followed her new friend out of the room, apparently terrified and torn. She paused at the doorway, and the woman dragged her back into the hall by her wrist. Why nobody had come running at the noise, Michael had no idea.

Mae groaned and stirred beneath the stands. Michael gasped, finally regaining his ability to breathe and move as his back unlocked, and stumbled over to Mae.

"Mae!" He coughed; his larynx had violently opened. "Are you all right?"


	3. The Black Candle

"Why did you have to do that to them?"

"Getting a little edgy about commitment, were we?"

"Ayame, you're _really_ starting to frighten me—"

"Am I?" Ayame shoved Chianne back-first into the back wall of the Riverside stadium and leaned in, nose-to-nose, gasping raggedly and barring her fangs. She was shaking. She loosened her grip on Chianne's shoulders as she relaxed slightly; a little tension ebbed out of her. She looked on the verge of tears.

"Ayame?" Chianne's voice sounded frail. She was edging away into the wall, though the more she pulled away, the further Ayame shoved her face after. "Ayame, are you crying? I'm sorry. I—"

"Come with me!" Ayame took both of Chianne's hands, though Chianne recoiled slightly. "We'll run away from all of thisss and be where both of usss can be happy. We can go to LA or New York, Tokyo, wherever you want to go!"

"N-now?"

"Now!" Ayame pulled Chianne away from the wall, though Chianne dug her heels in and looked over her shoulder several times. "Now, let's go get married! Then we'll have nobody but each other!"

"But… Ayame, come on." Chianne tried to throw down Ayame's hands and dig her heels into the rocky asphalt harder, but Ayame yanked. Chianne yelped and stumbled. "Ayame, no! This is ridiculous!"

"Come on!"

"AYAME!" Chianne stumbled over the sidewalk and scrabbled the brick wall with her free hand. Her bag had been left in the band room hallway, Karen still had her _Saiyuki_ fansubs, she had left her calculator in the math room again, her geometric "design" (which was no more than colored-penciled grids, but it was pretty) was hanging next to her chair in that room… it wasn't so much that she wanted these things back so much as they reminded her how immediate the school was, how close and real the people were. This wasn't a fantasy. She couldn't just up and leave.

"What? Isn't thissss what you've always wanted?" Ayame looked over her shoulder and yanked Chianne into her arms. "I'll be your princssse forever, Cssshianne. I'll never let anybody hurt you. I'll alwayssss be there for you. It'll be jusssst like you've alwayssss wanted and dreamed about."

"But… it doesn't feel… I don't know… Ayame, something's off. I'm sorry, just… something's off…"

Chianne still owed the bookstore money for her lost Spanish textbook. There was a test in that class tomorrow. Verbs. Her mother wanted her to clean out her closet today. She'd find old notebook-paper notes from last year, she was sure, and spread all of them out on her off-white carpet and read through them, some folded in envelope-formations, others just folded foursquare or eightfold, some smudged pencil, others blue pen, a couple highlighter… if she cleaned out her shoulder-bag, she'd maybe find that Chibi Moon pen she loved so much, right at the corners with the pencil shavings and scraps of gum wrapper…

"I can take you away from all of thissss." Ayame's face was flickering with traces of the shadow-side Chianne had glimpsed here and there, like dark formations darting about in a deep pool, or reflections off of the water, or the flicker of a fish's fin. Here one moment, gone the next, and then back, stronger—Ayame was barring her fangs again— "Issssn't that what you dream about all day?"

"But it's… Ayame, I don't know, just… no."

"…what?"

"No!" Chianne pulled away from Ayame. "No! I don't want to… Ayame, I love you, but I can't just throw everything away… it's… well, I've never particularly loved it so much, but… it's… I don't know, _here_. It's _here_, Ayame. Someday, I'd like to, but I have to talk to Mom, and do something about school, like get a GED or something, and… I'd like to, but…" Ayame's hurt gape was deteriorating into a smoldering glare; she turned her back on Chianne and crossed her arms, simmering. "…Ayame, come on. It's… I don't know how to explain it, but I can't!"

"But in the storiessss," Ayame said quietly, "the people who aren't willing to do thissss, you call cowardsssss. They have doubtssss, you say. They're ssssscared. Or they're cheating. Everything you ssssay issssn't real. It'ssss all made-up liessss."

"What I'm saying right now?"

"Yessssss."

"No… Ayame, come on, you've got it all wrong." Chianne took a cautious step toward Ayame, cradling her hand, about to touch Ayame's arm. "We'll run away together, maybe. Someday. But right now, let's go back—"

"It'ssss _her_, issssn't it? You want time to decsssside about _her_, don't you?"

"No! Ayame, it's… it's like that in… well, I know it's like that in stories, where you only have one thing holding you back to your _home_, but it's a lot more… a lot more than that. It's a lot more… things. Come on…" Chianne rested her head in the small of Ayame's back and wrapped her arms around Ayame's tense sides. "You're being so weird."

Ayame snapped her arms out to break Chianne's hold and shoved Chianne to the pavement, hissing. Chianne screamed and sat up in time to see Ayame jump clear over the PE building and run toward the parking lot.

"AYAME! WAIT!"

* * *

"Don't worry about the _guitar_ now. The important thing is that _you_ are all right." 

"_I'm_ fine. _Magellan's_ not. Damn, I loved that guitar. I don't know what the hell she wanted with me, but it wasn't your fight. Are you _sure_ you're all right?"

"As I've said a million times, yes. I haven't hurt myself since then, which is a pretty good stretch for me."

"I just feel so bad. I wasn't able to—"

"Protect me? Jesus, woman. You've said this a thousand times. And, as I said a thousand times in response, I can take care of myself, trained or not. Granted, I just had my ass handed to me, but… whatever." Michael winced. He was helping Mae limp down the Riverside parking lot to his car. They had not visited the nurse or reported the fight, but they were fairly sure that nothing was broken. "You got it worse than I did, anyway."

"What are we going to do about that psycho chick?"

"As I said _before_, no idea. Come on, let's go to Denny's."

"We can't let her run around! She's dangerous!"

"Probably not, so long as nobody looks at Chianne the wrong way. I have _no idea_ who she is. I think you need a milkshake, anyway. Look." Michael stopped and re-adjusted Mae's weight on his shoulder. "We're not going to be able to find her until she wants to find us again, so we might as well try to enjoy our afternoon. All right?"

"Enjoy away, then," said Ayame. "Thissss isss, after all, Valentine'ssss Day."

Mae and Michael started and turned around. Ayame was smiling coldly down at them.

"Ssssstart running."

* * *

Leon Orcot growled and struggled beneath Ayame's pin, waiting for D to pacify his pet. His nose was sliding around in its own blood, and the bones were grinding together excruciatingly. He blinked tears away and snarled. 

"D! COME ON!"

"I just… she just ran off, and I found her in the park standing over Michael's body… pulling her hand out of his chest…"

Chianne's voice was thin.

"But, Miss Miller, you were warned that if you broke any of the clauses in our contract, the consequences would be disastrous."

"But all I did was—that's not a reasonable clause, to have to follow somebody without even thinking about it! You couldn't have meant…"

"My rules are not lax, Miss Miller, nor can they be neglected. And I do not exaggerate. I always mean exactly what I say. There no room for leeway there."

"D! CALL HER OFF!"

"And you most certainly seemed to think it was reasonable. Possessiveness, dominant partners who would kill anybody who dared to wrong their partners—you seemed to love that. Being possessed to the point of insane jealousy. It was all very _romantic_, wasn't it? A partner who bent to your every whim. Your own microcosm of existence and self-perpetuated belief that you and your partner alone were the only ones with any awareness of the world or of any worth to exert yourselves within it, and anybody who crossed you was worthy of death. Isn't it just what you've always wanted? A hero, a prince, everything out of your dreams?"

"But… no! That's… my best friends are _dead_…"

"Yes. Angst and tragedy are not so much _fun_, are they? Lovers who kill your loved ones? The utmost betrayal? Hate and love, both attraction? Is any of that really so much fun or so _romantic_, Chianne? Neither is insane possessiveness, or jealousy, or violence, or stalking, or partners with a deathly-dark side. Murderers aren't so romantic anymore, are they? Has all the fun gone out of all of that darkness and depression and violence? This _is_ what you fantasize about, you know. Beautiful characters who are one thing by day and another by night, some bipolar, some complex, but all insanely _possessive_."

Chianne was silent. Orcot gasped as Ayame released her hold on him and stood, walking away as Orcot groaned and rolled onto his back, cradling his nose. Ayame was kneeling in front of Chianne, who was on her knees and sobbing silently. D was walking over to Orcot and drawing gauze out of his sash, which seemed to Orcot like an impractical place to keep a first aid kit, but appropriately theatrical for the Count. D supported Orcot on his arm and pinched his nose with the gauze.

"There is nothing wrong with fantasy," said D. "Our cerebral life is just as much something to celebrate as that which is physical. It can be beautiful and a medium through which we communicate the complexities and tides of life and relationships, and it can be the starting-place for ideas that will shape reality as we know it. But, when it gets to the level that it _prevents_ you from seeing others clearly, when you start to breach _their_ cerebral integrity, it becomes harmful. Communication comes to a dead halt, and real-life relationships can go nowhere. That is when you start to build illusions and lies. There are _degrees_ of fantasy, Chianne, and lines where it must end. Tell me, are you sure that you loved Mae, or did you love all of the fantasies and characters that you attached to her?"

_D, I'll pay you if you shut up._

"…nobody in the _real world_ likes me, all right?"

_Jesus Christ, here comes another speech._ Orcot stared at Chianne woozily, wondering if he was going to pass out. D shook him slightly and adjusted his hold on his nose.

"…you don't know what it's like to be the one nobody really wants to be friends with." Chianne was forming her words carefully and slowly, stopping to hiccup when she needed to. "I'm at the end of everybody's call list. I… I'm the pity friend, the one people keep around and pass off like an… obligation. I know that I'm… I'm immature and emotional, and I whine and I pick fights and… I sulk and I try to make people feel bad… I guess I can't blame them, but I want to be one of them… you know, one of the people that's always at the top of the call list, the one everybody wants to talk to and be friends with. Michael's like that. He took everything from me, even Mae, when he just moved here and I've been by Mae's side for years. I guess he's got charisma, or something. I know he's smart and funny and kind… unlike me… but he's got everything. He's got all the breaks, just because he's brilliant and mature. Just because he has talent. I'm just being myself, but nobody wants that."

Ayame touched Chianne's hand carefully, bowing her head. Chianne glanced at Ayame and looked back at the ground.

"I wasn't born strong, all right? I'm… in the anime, in the yaoi, it's always the annoying, small, cute ones that get all of the breaks. They're just like me, but, unlike me, they're… kind. Pure. Heartless. I think I could be all of those things if I was the magical girl or the uke boy that always got the guy of their dreams and everybody loved and got all of the breaks. But that's not how it happens in the real world. The little ones, the annoying ones that refuse to give up on the ones they have a crush on—nobody likes them, but in anime, they always win in the end. In anime, if you never give up, you always win! But that's not enough in the real world!" Chianne was starting to get hysterical. "If you have charisma and sarcasm and good looks and intelligence, you don't have to try! It doesn't matter if you love somebody less than somebody else, just as long as you're _cool_! If you have a car and can give rides to people, you don't even have to try! If you're just trying to write, the smart ones with all of the talent blackball you online and tell you never to write again! I hate reality! It's not fair! I bet if all of those magical girls and uke boys and whatnot were in the real world, with no magical powers, they'd be just like me, all alone and outcast, with people looking down on them, and they'd be just as jealous and nasty as I am! I love Mae! I love her, I've loved her for years, and I'd give anything for her, but I never had a chance with her because I'm not on her level, and now she wants to be rid of me! I'm sure of it! I know it by the way she treats me! I'm an obligation! I didn't want her to die, Ayame! Not even Michael! I hate him because I'm a mean and selfish person, but he didn't deserve to die!"

Ayame gave a low, solemn hiss.

"He didn't! I was… I just wanted to be loved and be loved in return, all right? That's all I wanted from you! And maybe I wanted you to stick up for me even when I was in the wrong, just because I wanted somebody who's _always on my side_, no matter what! People never are, and I can't argue my way out of anything… I just don't think that fast, so I never have a fighting chance. I didn't want this! I didn't want this! I didn't want this!"

Orcot was feeling much more stable. D had pulled a flask of some odd tea out of his shoulder-bag and was giving Orcot sips. Orcot had no idea what it was, but he wanted to buy crates of it. It worked like a charm.

"They hurt you, Csssshianne." Ayame kneaded Chianne's shoulder. "Nobody is allowed to scar you but me. Nobody else may in any way effect you."

"Ayame, don't say stuff like that. I don't want t be scarred. I want to be happy."

"You broke the contract," said D. "You've unleashed a monster."

"What, unleashed?" Orcot sputtered and took another gulp of tea. "_You_ sold her that damned thing! You knew it'd end up like this, didn't you? The hell is the matter with you, D? Is this some sort of a sick lesson you're trying to teach?"

"I did not create the monster. Chianne did."

"…because she broke the contract, or is that more of your philosophical-metaphorical-nonsense-shit?"

The fire alarms went off. Orcot started, Chianne shrieked and covered her head, and Ayame dove over her, shielding her. D looked up calmly and waved his hand.

"Don't worry. There is no fire."

The ceiling-mounted sprinklers went off. Chianne sniffed beneath Ayame as the water pounded on Ayame's suit-jacketed shoulders and back, dripping down the fabric, and plastered her hair to her head. Orcot shook the water out of his hair and glared at D, whose hair was plastered across his face. The latter was looking down at his dress and clicking his tongue.

"At least I chose something that can take water."

"You narcissistic—"

Chianne screamed. Orcot looked up to see Ayame _melting_. Black paint was flowing off of her jacket to reveal crumpled fabric resembling stiff cellophane, as black ink ran off of her hair to reveal equally transparent strands, seemingly shredded and curled edges of a cel. The snake moaned and curled tighter around Chianne, who, as the black paint mingled with flesh-toned paint and flowed off of the transparent body, was revealed through Ayame's chest. Ayame's brains were crumpled, typed paper. Her heart looked viscous and sugary, like a bad lava-lamp on acid. Beyond those two organs, her body was as transparent as water.

"…D…"

"Yes?"

"What the _hell_?" Orcot pointed at Ayame. "This… they usually turn back into animals, don't they? What the _hell is this_?"

"Ayame never truly was a snake. She wasn't really one of my pets."

"What?"

"Ayame was a mirror, a manifestation of somebody's innermost thoughts and dreams. She took on a pseudo-snake persona because of this girl's strong sexual drive and obsession with sensuality. She was everything the girl ever wanted, inside and out. Her logic and mind, her entire worldview and basis for normal and right, was scripted by this girl. Her heart was what the girl wanted it to be, that easy to understand and simple. And that devoted. And, as she was a reflection of Chianne's heart, so was she a reflection of her hatred and jealousy. This creature had the ability to bend reality around her to create a romanticized, convenient, aesthetically-pleasing and free-flowing reality, void of causal nuances and practicalities."

A single animation cel of Ayame drifted to the soaked, wooden floor, landing on a paint-sullied puddle. Chianne stared at the cel, grief-stricken, and pulled it out of the water. She clutched it to her chest and screamed hysterically.

"But, in the end, this girl got what she truly desired. Ayame loved her unconditionally with every fiber of her being, until the very end. She loved Chianne despite her faults and doubts. Few people can boast that they have been loved so purely at any point in their lives."

* * *

"That was pretty fucking out of line, D." 

"What?" D and Orcot were walking away from the apartment complex. Two fire engines had already showed up at the building and were doing a last-minute security check despite discovering that there had been no fire.

"Giving a girl a pet that'd manifest so much jealousy and pain that it'd knock off her friends, just because she's jealous of them. That's really harsh. You must have taken one look at that girl and seen that she was unstable. Not the friends' faults, and _everybody_ goes through stages where they're insanely jealous. Jesus, when I was her age, I was a _complete_ prick about stuff like that. Doesn't mean they deserve _that_. …_Jeez_, I hope I don't see that girl show up as a suicide case. I hope she'll be all right."

"Officer Orcot?"

Orcot growled. _Dodge it, D. Just dodge it._ "What?"

"I burn a six-foot black candle in my shop entryway to absorb all of the negative energy that drifts by our part of town." Orcot rolled his eyes. "On Valentine's Day alone, I set out a brand-new candle, and it is burnt down to the ground by the time the sun rises on the fifteenth. One of those candles usually lasts me a _month_, officer."

"I'd like to hear why that has a damned thing to do with my question."

"For as many people as Valentine's Day is a joyous day to celebrate their relationships, just as many people waste a day of their lives consumed by jealousy, hate, and pain. That is a precious day of life _wasted_, Officer, on wallowing in emotions that poison the mind and soul. A day wasted looking back at ruined relationships and coveting those around them who have what they desire, and a night wasted lying awake thinking that the ones they want are in the arms of another person, does not bode positive energy. It is foolish to waste a precious day of life despairing about what you do not have when you can look for your happiness elsewhere."

"…D, are you even listening to me?"

"You see, for everybody observing Valentine's Day, on either extreme, the focus of the holiday is on loving and being loved in return."

"Yeah, whatever. I just focus on getting laid, usually. That's all very nice, but that justifies causing more pain and anguish… _how_? And I mean real anguish, like devastated parents and friends, not just 'woe-is-me-I'm-lonely'?"

"She agreed to the clauses in the contract, and she broke them. I cannot be held responsible. She came looking for happiness, and I sold it to her."

"That is _so much_ like handing an ADD kid a bazooka and saying it was his fault that he blew up the house because he didn't listen when you told him not to fire it."

D sighed. "It's a shame. That mirror was _so_ rare, and the girl could have been _so_ happy if only she had listened to me."

"You are a _bastard_."

"Officer Orcot?"

"_What_?"

"Do you have somebody special for Valentine's Day?"

Orcot looked up from staring at the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pockets. "I'm single and not interested in men, especially drag-queen fairies."

D started to laugh. Orcot scowled and stared quietly.

"Come on," said D. "The night is young, and I have some lovely cheesecake I would like to share with somebody. Or are you afraid of being converted?"


End file.
